


LEX AND CLARK: The New Adventures Of Superboy 13 - Countdown To War

by ssa_archivist



Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-02-14
Updated: 2003-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-01 05:14:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/352346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssa_archivist/pseuds/ssa_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The new adventures of an old hero.<br/>DISCLAIMER: Smallville, in specfic, and Superman, in general, belong to DC COMICS.<br/>SPECIAL THANKS to my beta, Georgia. Peach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	LEX AND CLARK: The New Adventures Of Superboy 13 - Countdown To War

## LEX AND CLARK: The New Adventures Of Superboy 13 - Countdown To War

by Catlover

[]()

* * *

Countdown To War 

It's my loss, my mistake. 

Mine only... 

It's my bad, my broken, all my should haves left unspoken. 

\- "Mine All Mine" performed by Shedaisy 

November 1, 2002 

Smallville High 

"Hey, Pete," shouted Clark. 

Half jogging, Clark approached Pete. As Pete hurriedly exchanged books in his locker for books in his backpack, he glanced at Clark, watching him casually lean against the wall of lockers. Zipping up his backpack and shoving his locker closed with his right shoulder, Pete spoke quickly, "Hey, hey, Clark. Umm... It was great seeing you, but I gotta get goin' cuz I'm already late." 

With a pat on Clark's arm, Pete swung his backpack over his shoulder and started to walk away. Only Clark's quick hand on his shoulder stopped him. "Pete, what's going on? Ever since the school year started, you've been the invisible man." 

With his back to Clark, Pete paused. Glancing over his shoulder, Pete remarked, "What? Can't take your own medicine?" 

Pete got three steps away before he heard Clark say, "Pete, that's not fair." 

Stopping in mid-step, Pete turned his head to the right. "Well, it's not about fair." 

"Pete, c'mon. You're supposed to be my best friend," argued Clark. 

Turning back to Clark, Pete gripped the shoulder strap of his backpack as he inquired, "Am I?" 

"Of course," answered Clark. 

"You could've fooled me," said Pete as he turned around and walked away. 

\--<{()}>\-- 

November 2, 2002 

Main Street 

Smallville, Kansas 

"A vote for Mayor Siegel is a vote for Smallville!" cried Pete. 

Beside him, Sam Cole sported a smile and a sincere "thank you" as she handed out bumper stickers and campaign buttons. Shaking hands as she pushed her political slant on passersby, she was careful to remind each and every person, "Don't forget Election Day is this Tuesday." 

In between acts of solicitation, Sam stole a moment to glance shyly at Pete. Each glance received a bright smile in response. As the minutes passed, they grew bolder and the space between them thinner until finally they wrapped an arm around each other, holding each other close. Their happiness was infectious. It drew people to them and the political literature they held out as gospel. 

"What is going on here?" called out a deep voice. 

Spinning around, Pete and Sam flew apart at the sight of Marcus Cole. Recovering from her initial shock, Sam reached into her bag and pulled out a fistful of pins and bumper stickers. "We're handing out campaign stuff. The election is Tuesday. There aren't many chances left to sway the moderates and undecided general public." 

His eyes narrowed, Marcus looked back and forth from Sam to Pete. Finally, his eyes centered on Pete. Frowning severely, he asked with a slight growl, "And to sway these people you need to be holding each other?" 

In response, Pete hmmed and ummed. Slowly, he tilted his head back until he could look directly into Marcus' eyes. Swallowing hard, Pete started to speak, but God showed pity on the boy by choosing that moment for Laura to open her mouth. 

Standing beside Marcus, Laura was all, but forgotten until she pointed out, "Of course they do, Marcus. It's very important that they do that. It shows solidarity." 

Stepping forward, Sam dropped the items she clutched back into her bag. Reaching up to her shoulder, she took her campaign button off and proceeded to pin it on Marcus' baseball jacket. Tapping the button twice, Sam stepped back and proclaimed, "See? Now, you're part of the team." 

As Marcus turned the button up to read it, Sam glanced at Laura in time to see Laura wink. Looking up, Marcus noted the smile on Sam's face and turned around quickly. Laura's bright smile greeted him. Her expression blatantly shouted innocence, but Marcus wasn't fooled. He was just about to call Laura on it when Sam said, "Brother dear, I'm really flattered by all the concern, but I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself. Besides, like I said, there isn't much time left and Pete and I have really got to start pounding pavement." 

Looking at Pete suspiciously, Marcus remarked, "Well, at least the election is on Tuesday. After that, you won't have these excuses any more." 

The smile on Sam's face fell. Her face stricken and pale, she nodded. "Yeah, I guess you're right." 

As Sam looked down at the ground, Laura placed a hand on Marcus' shoulder. With a bitter tone to her voice, Laura said, "I'm almost late for work, Marcus. If you still want to walk me there, we'll need to go now or I could just go." 

Looking over his shoulder at Laura, conflicted emotions flew across Marcus' face as he watched her turn away. Finally with a heavy sigh, Marcus gave Sam one last warning filled glance before jogging after Laura's quickly departing figure. 

Easily catching up with Laura, Marcus said, "I just do that to protect her." 

Nodding, Laura replied, "I know, but what are you protecting her from?" 

"From unreasonable expectations. You know as well as I do that Dad would never allow her to see that guy," Marcus reminded Laura. 

Sighing sadly, Laura whispered, "Yes, neither Uncle Ray or Aunt Sarah would care for it much, but they're old and set in their ways. They're easy to understand. Why are you doing this?" 

Looking up at the sky, Marcus inhaled deeply as he prepared to renew an old discussion. "Because I agree with them, Laura. Traditions are worth fighting for, sometimes." 

Looking down at Laura, Marcus forced himself not to reach out to touch her cheek. "Besides, traditions have never done badly by us." 

Blushing, Laura ducked her head to the side, away from Marcus. When she finally glanced back at Marcus, Laura could only nod in agreement. 

Together, they walked along comfortably. Occasionally glancing fondly at each other as they bantered over simple things. At the door to the Talon, Marcus opened the door and waited patiently as Laura entered. Laura rushed to the bar where her waitress apron waited on a hook. As she tied it on, Laura said, "Thanks for walking me to work, Marcus." 

"Anytime," replied Marcus, sincerely. 

From a point just past the bar came a rushed voice. "Laura, a party of eight just came in a few minutes ago. Could you help me fill their orders?" 

Turning to Lana, Laura smoothed out the wrinkles in her apron as she answered, "Sure, I'm right on it." 

Making his way to the door, Marcus called out, "Laura, I'll be by to pick you up after work." 

Smiling widely, Laura replied, "Okay." 

Grabbing a hold of the front doors, Marcus was about to leave when he heard Laura say, "Oh, and Marcus, don't worry. Everything'll be okay." 

Smiling, Marcus nodded once before leaving. 

Annoyance lacing her voice, Lana mentioned, "Laura, I really need you to get over here and help prepare this order." 

Rushing over, Laura stuttered, "Sorry, I guess I got carried away." 

Glancing at the order slip and then at the tray sitting on the counter, Laura noted that Lana already prepared the two mocha lattes. Looking at Lana's quickly moving hands, Laura watched as she held the top of the mixer as she ground up the ice for two mocha frappes. Glancing back down at the order slip, Laura paused to clear her mind before starting on the large hot chocolate. 

A couple minutes later, the order delivered and the customers happily sipping at their drinks, Laura and Lana returned to the bar. Placing the trays on the counter, Laura prepared to go clear a table when Lana stopped her. Brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, Lana said, "Laura, we need to talk. I understand Marcus is very protective and feels the necessity to drop you off and pick you up from work, but when you're already a couple minutes late, I need you to leave him at the door. If you've got a few minutes before your shift starts, I have no problem with you two hanging out, but when you're on the clock, I need you checking on the customers. Okay?" 

Nodding, Laura stuttered, "Sure, I'm sorry, Lana. It won't happen again." 

Smiling kindly, but firmly, Lana answered, "Well, good. I'm glad we've cleared that up." 

Turning toward the tables, Laura hurried away. Watching her employee hastily clear a table, Lana braced herself for the sound of broken glass. With a grimace on her face and tension filling her spine, Lana jumped at the voice coming from just behind her shoulder. "Damn, remind me never to get you mad or better never to work for you." 

Turning around, Lana smiled at Chloe before furrowing her brow severely. Leaning toward Chloe, Lana asked, "Do you think I was too hard on her? I don't want to hurt her feelings, but she's been doing that since I hired her. Still, I don't want to seem unreasonable. On the other hand, I am her boss and if anyone should tell her it should be me, right?" 

Wide-eyed, Chloe watched Lana ramble. Once Lana stopped talking, Chloe shook her head, unable to stop the light laughter that slipped out. Looking at Lana's creased eyes, Chloe observed, "I think you're babbling and tense which can only mean that Whitney wrote you recently. So what did Pvt. Fordman have to say this time? More love poems?" 

"He's arriving sometime on the 24th and he'll be staying until the 30th," replied Lana with a slight tick forming on her forehead. 

Eyeing Lana's frayed nerves, Chloe acted immediately. Taking Lana's arm, Chloe pulled Lana toward the front door. "Come on. We're getting you out of here, right now." 

Quickly, Lana protested, "No, Chloe. I can't just leave." 

Placing her hand on her hip, Chloe replied, "Of course, you can. You're the boss. You're the only person who can just leave." 

"In theory, but in reality it doesn't quite work that way," explained Lana. 

Rolling her eyes, Chloe asked, "Who's in charge when you're in school?" 

"Julio," answered Lana. 

Letting go of Lana, Chloe walked over to the kitchen. Opening the door, Chloe said, "Hey, Julio. Hi. Como estas? Um, Lana's gonna need you to watch the shop for a little while, okay?" 

Emerging from the kitchen, a dark skinned young man wiped his hands on a towel as he looked for Lana. Finding her standing halfway between the bar and the front door, Julio asked, "You need me to watch the place for a while, Miss Lang?" 

Glaring at Chloe's smug face as she slowly walked back over to the door, Lana answered calmly, "Yes, Julio. Would you mind?" 

Shaking his head, Julio replied, "Not at all, Jefita." 

Smiling kindly at Julio, Lana thanked him as Chloe dragged her out the door. Outside, Chloe and Lana walked down Main Street toward the Smallville Municipal Park. Along the way, Chloe couldn't resist a question, "So, I figured out months ago when his letters kept showing up that you never told him. What are you going to do when he gets here?" 

Looking down at her moving feet, Lana said, "I plan to break up with him. It's the right thing to do. It's what I should do." 

"But?" asked Chloe. 

"But everything, Chloe. In my mind, I know I need to, but in my heart, I'm just not sure," answered Lana. 

Reaching the park, they found their way to the swings. Sitting side by side on a set of swings, they watched children run around, screaming loudly. Following the children with her eyes, Chloe said, "You don't love him, Lana. What more is there to it?" 

Looking up at the cloudy sky, Lana sighed, "That's easy for you to say, Chloe." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Chloe. 

Pressing her forehead against the plastic chain holding up the swing, Lana looked at Chloe. "You're so lucky. You have Justin. He loves you. It's so obvious. I don't have anyone." 

Reaching over to her, Chloe rubbed Lana's arm slowly before wrapping her hand around Lana's. Squeezing delicate fingers, Chloe whispered, "You could have Clark." 

Laughing sadly, Lana pulled her hand away from Chloe. Hugging herself, she looked down at the ground, forcing a pathetic laugh back down her throat. Shaking her head, Lana said, "No, I couldn't." 

Narrowing her eyes, Chloe rubbed Lana's back as she inquired, "How can you know?" 

Rolling her eyes up to the sky, Lana replied, "I know." 

Letting her head fall, she looked at Chloe's concerned, curious face and stated, "Trust me, Chloe. I just know." 

A distant honk caught their attention. Looking in the general direction of the din, they saw the beat up Kent Family truck parallel park in a space directly in front of them. After turning off the truck, Clark jumped from the vehicle and jogged over. Once he was within shouting distance, he asked, "Hey, what's going on?" 

Looking up at Clark, Lana replied, "Oh, just taking a break from the Talon." 

Looking over at Chloe, Clark noticed the slightly angry look on her face. Chloe continued to pout as she asked, "Where's your shadow?" 

Squinting, Clark stared at her as he said, "Come again?" 

"Y'know. Tall, pale and bald," answered Chloe tersely. 

Taken aback, Clark was stunned speechless. Looking at Lana, Clark saw a similar shocked look on her face. Looking back at Chloe, Clark watched as she pulled herself to her feet. Pointing her index finger right at Clark, Chloe spat out, "Well, be sure to tell him that he's still on my shit list." 

Turning around, Chloe waved at Lana lazily as she hurried away. Helplessly, Clark followed Chloe's departing form as he sat down on the swing. Without looking away from Chloe, Clark asked Lana, "Do you know what that was all about?" 

"I haven't a clue," replied Lana as she watched Chloe disappear behind the corner grocery. 

Finally looking at Lana, Clark noticed the tired lines surrounding her eyes. "You okay? You don't look so good." 

Pressing her fingertips against her eyes, Lana rubbed until she saw stars and her eyeballs ached dully. "I'm just tired. Homecoming was a busy time and the Talon is doing really well, which is good, but it's also a lot of work." 

Grabbing the swing chains again, Lana pushed off the ground. Sliding through the air, Lana continued, "I just needed a break. It can all be a little overwhelming, y'know?" 

Pushing off the dirt floor, Clark joined Lana in swinging back and forth. Pumping their legs, they pushed the swings higher and higher until they were swinging in great arcs, causing the metal frame to creak. For several swings they were quiet. Then, Lana leaned back and laughed out loud, her laughter turning into a strangled scream as she climbed higher than excepted. 

As they passed on the down swing, Clark yelled, "Maybe, you should take the day off." 

Growing dizzy, she strained her neck to follow Clark as he flew by her again. Pausing high in the air, Lana answered loudly to the blue sky above her, "Maybe, I should." 

As she fell backwards, Lana let her feet drag across the dirt, slowing her down. Clark noticed what she was doing and did the same. Once they both stopped, Lana looked at Clark and repeated, "Maybe, I should." 

Nodding, Clark stood up. Extending his hand, Clark offered, "Come on, I'll give you a ride home." 

Taking his hand, Lana smiled. "I'd appreciate that, Clark. Thank you." 

They made their way back to the truck. As Clark unlocked Lana's door, she asked, "You never said. What are you doing in town on the weekend?" 

"Picking up supplies for my Mom. She ran out in a big way yesterday. She had to dip into our personal flour supply to finish the Cole's order," replied Clark. 

After they both climbed into the truck, Lana asked, "How is your Mom doing with that?" 

"Pretty good. I can tell she's really enjoying the challenge and the extra money doesn't hurt either," replied Clark as he pulled out of the parking space. 

"Yeah, I noticed the change, right away. I had to put an actual inventory system in place because if I run out of pie from Wednesday to Friday, I know I'm not getting anymore until Saturday," said Lana as she watched the park fall away. 

Turning onto Main Street, Clark said, "Let me ask you. As a long time customer of my Mother do you feel put out by the new restrictions my Mother has put in place since taking on the Cole contract?" 

Laughing softly, Lana wiped her hand down her cheek as she answered, "Well, that's a very official, survey sounding question. Umm... I'd say I'm not bothered by it. I had to get more organized, but I needed to do that anyway. If anything, it helped me to get it together. Yeah. I have no problem. I care more about the quality of the product and I've seen no change in that. Your Mom's pies are still the big seller. If anything, they sell even better than before. Probably because some people are just not able to wait until Friday morning to get a slice of your Mom's pie. Why do you ask?" 

Smiling widely, Clark explained, "It's a new fight in the Kent house. My Dad seems to think that my Mother is neglecting her other customers because of the Cole contract." 

Cocking her head to the side, Lana asked, "Does your Dad not like your Mom running this business?" 

Grimacing, Clark replied haltingly, "Yeah. Well? Yeah. I think it's always been a sore spot for my Dad that the farm doesn't really pay for itself. My Mom has always had to do little things like selling vegetables, baking and such to get us through the hard times." 

Laughing, Lana commented, "Score one more for the fragile male pride." 

"Thanks a lot," groaned Clark just before passing two familiar figures. Pointing out the window, Clark continued, "Hey, it's Pete and Sam." 

Nodding, Lana looked back at the dynamic duo. "Yeah, who would have thought that Pete could be so into politics? I mean I know his Mom's a judge, but still." 

Frowning, Clark remarked, "Yeah. He's apparently mad at me. First him. Now Chloe. If this keeps going on, soon you won't be speaking to me either." 

"Never. You can't get rid of me that easily," said Lana. 

Laughing, Clark thanked her, "Good. I really needed to hear that." 

Reaching across the bench seat, Lana squeezed Clark's thigh, patting it for good measure. "So, not to mimic Chloe, but where is your shadow?" 

Glancing at Lana, Clark turned off Main Street onto Beacon Street and headed for Hwy 90. As he kept his eyes on the road before him, Clark replied, "Lex is in Metropolis on business. I don't expect him back anytime soon." 

Frowning, Lana said, "I'm sorry, Clark" 

"Don't be. He just had some stuff he had to do," assured Clark in a not too confident voice as they neared Hickory Lane. 

"Do you think we could go to your place? I'm not eager to see Nell," requested Lana. 

Pulling onto Hickory Lane, Clark said, "Are you having problems with your Aunt?" 

Shrugging her shoulders, Lana replied, "Not exactly. She's well intentioned, but every time a letter from Whitney arrives, she gushes for days. Now, that Whitney's coming back for a visit, all she does is go on and on about how we're having Thanksgiving lunch with the Fordmans. I don't know if she's happier to just not have to cook or because she's been invited to something. Frankly, I think she's just enamored with the fact I got the captain of the football team just like she did." 

Laughing out loud, Clark pointed out, "Well, the left over dreams of an aging cheerleader do not die easily. Thankfully, you left that life before it could affect you." 

Bringing both hands up to her mouth, Lana gasped, "Clark! That's just so wrong." 

Glancing over at Clark's smiling face, Lana asked, "So, am I welcome?" 

"Of course," replied Clark. Pulling the truck alongside the barn, Clark continued, "Besides, I'm glad to have some company other than my parents." 

"Are you all still fighting like the last time?" asked Lana, warily. 

Grimacing from the memory, Clark replied, "No. It's just I can't discuss anything really important with them anymore. My Father and I have one safe conversation topic these days - Farm work. My Mother is okay so long as I let her have her way. She's always talking about how I need to get out more and meet somebody. I know she means a girl and all I can do is say, 'Sure, Mom, I'll get right on it.' I just don't know what else to do." 

As the truck drew to a slow, easy stop, Lana suggested, "You could just tell them. Y'know, come out of the closet." 

At Lana's idea, Clark squeezed the steering wheel tightly. In the blink of an eye, he reached down and turned off the engine and then was back gripping the steering wheel. Tension filled his arms. He swallowed hard. Looking straight ahead, Clark spit out, "Yeah. Yeah, that would be just great. Hi, Mom & Dad. Guess what? The alien freak you took in out of the goodness of your heart and invested all your hopes and dreams in likes to kiss guys and on top of that is dating the one man you hate. Yeah, I can see that happening. Sure." 

Twisting her fingers, Lana winced as she offered; "You don't have to tell them about Lex, right away." 

Throwing back his head, Clark groaned loudly. Leaning forward, he folded his arms over the steering wheel and hid his face. Quickly, he shook his head back and forth. From beneath his arms, his muffled voice sounded, "That doesn't make it any easier, Lana. I'd still be nothing but a disappointment to them." 

At Clark's final words, Lana practically flew across the seat. Flush against him, she rubbed his back and spoke gently. "Clark, you need to listen to me. You are not a freak and you are not a disappointment. Your parents love you and they will still love you if you tell them the truth." 

Looking up, Clark stared out the windshield without saying a word. Finally, he turned his head until he could see Lana's sympathetic gaze. Smiling weakly, Clark whispered, "Sometimes, I wish I could see into the future. Then, I'd know how they'd react. I could prepare myself or be relieved. The worst part is just not knowing." 

Wrapping her left arm around his broad shoulders, Lana pressed her forehead against Clark's. Frowning, Lana searched for the perfect words, the perfect sentiment, but found nothing. Instead, she hugged Clark close and remained silent. 

After a couple minutes, Lana pulled away. Stopping a couple inches from Clark, she cupped his cheek. Tilting his head up, she waited until he looked her directly in the eyes before smiling. "Clark, you told me and I didn't run. Your parents won't run either." 

In response, Clark smiled brightly. Turning toward her, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a tight, brief hug. As they parted, Clark said, "Thanks, Lana." 

Finally at peace with the friendship shining in Clark's eyes, Lana replied sincerely, "What are friends for?" 

Unbeknownst to Clark and Lana, a solitary figure watched their exchange. Standing at the door to the second kitchen, Martha Kent watched with narrowing eyes. Once she watched them exit the truck and start towards the barn, Martha couldn't resist the urge to investigate. Wiping her hands clean, she hung her apron on a hook before pushing her shirtsleeves up to her elbows. 

As Martha entered the barn, she winced at the squeaking, rusted hinges as they warned of her approach. Instantly, Clark and Lana were looking over the banister. Flashing a motherly smile, Martha waved at them as she ascended the stairs. At the top, she surveyed the area, looking for anything amiss. Finding nothing, she turned to Clark and said, "Did you get those supplies I asked you to get?" 

Shock and embarrassment covered Clark's face. Running his hand through his hair, Clark stammered, "Sorry, Mom. I forgot. I'll go get them." 

Nodding, Martha placed her hands on her hips. "It's okay, Clark. I hate to bother you when you have friends over, but I going to need some help in the new kitchen." 

Glancing over at Lana, Clark hesitated before offering; "Could Lana wait here while I help you? I'm sure it's nothing that could take me too long." 

Glancing back and forth between them, Martha answered, "No, I'm sorry. The job's going to take a while. I'm sorry, Lana, but I really need Clark to help me." 

Feeling suddenly uncomfortable, Lana nodded before saying, "Of course, Mrs. Kent. I understand." 

Squeezing Clark's arm, Lana exhaled loudly. Glancing at Martha, Lana didn't waste time before waving goodbye to Clark. "Bye, Clark. See you around." 

As she passed Martha, Lana glanced warily at her. "Mrs. Kent." 

Her head cocked slightly to the left, Martha crossed her arms as she replied, "Lana." 

Once Lana was gone, Martha turned to Clark and demanded, "What is going on between you and her?" 

Wide-eyed, Clark backed up a few steps. "What?" 

Closing in on him, Martha repeated, "You and Lana. What is going on?" 

"Nothing," swore Clark. 

Eyeing Clark closely, Martha commented, "She has a boyfriend, Clark. It would do well for both of you to remember that." 

His eyes darting about the loft, Clark stuttered, "I know she has a boyfriend, Mom." 

Squinting with suspicion, Martha asked, "Do you? Then why do I find the two of you together all the time?" 

Putting up his hands, Clark replied, "Because she's my friend." 

Sighing loudly, Martha said, "Oh Clark. Lana is very lonely, right now. Whitney is far away and gone for so long." 

Shaking his head a little, Clark asked, "Mom, what are you trying to say?" 

Her stern expression softening, Martha took another step toward him. "I just don't want you to get hurt, Clark. Whitney will be back soon and when he comes back, Lana may not be around so much." 

The stunned expression Clark sported soon turned into outrage. Looking at the ground, Clark stated, "That's great." 

Looking his Mother in the eye, Clark pointed at his chest and continued, "You think? What? Lana and I?" 

"I know you've always had a crush on her. So does she. That makes you an easy target," said Martha softly, almost sweetly. Taking another step forward, Martha reached out to Clark only to have Clark shrug away. Swallowing hard, she assured, "Honey, I understand." 

Recoiling from his Mother's touch, Clark brushed past as her as he walked away. At the stairs, he paused. Looking back at Martha, he said, "You don't understand anything." 

Stomping down the stairs, Clark stayed at Human speed until he reached the door. Then, with super speed, he zoomed out to the truck, grabbed the supplies and took them into the new kitchen. Once finished, he glared at his Mother as he jumped up the back porch stairs, taking three steps at a time. 

Clark barely got inside the house before the phone started to ring. Sighing, Clark debated whether to answer it or let the answering machine get it. On the fourth ring, Clark made up his mind and picked up the receiver. "Hello, Kent residence." 

"Clark?" 

A smile instantly spread across Clark's face. "Lex?" 

Just then, the kitchen door opened. Spinning around, Clark watched his Mother quietly enter the kitchen. For a couple seconds, their eyes locked. No words exchanged as tension grew between them. 

"Clark?" 

Holding the receiver with both hands, Clark cupped his right hand around the smooth plastic and his own lips and said in hushed tones, "Wait a second. I'm going to get on the other extension." 

Placing the phone on the counter, Clark looked back and forth between Martha and the phone a few times before making his way to the stairs. His eyes stopped on the phone. With stern resolve, Clark walked over to the stairwell, gripping the handrail tightly once he got there. With one last glance at Martha, Clark ran up the stairs to his room. 

Once Clark sped away, Martha swiftly crossed the room and picked up the phone. Holding up the phone, Martha asked, "Lana?" 

Expecting a female gasp, Martha was genuinely surprised when Lex's smooth masculine voice replied, "Excuse me? Mrs. Kent? Is that you?" 

Blushing red, Martha stuttered, "Lex. This is quite a surprise." 

"Apparently," laughed Lex just as the click of a picked-up phone echoed across the phone line. "How are you, Mrs. Kent?" 

Clark's serious voice rang out clearly; "I've got the phone now, Mom." 

The only response was a soft click as Martha placed her end back on the phone cradle. 

"Clark, what's going on?" asked Lex. 

Sighing loudly, Clark said, "Not you, too." 

"What?" asked Lex. After a moment of silence, Lex continued, "Look, did I call at a bad time?" 

Shaking his head even though he knew Lex couldn't see him, Clark answered, "No. Well? Yeah? No. Not really." 

"What happened?" inquired Lex. 

"It was my Mom. She thinks Lana is cheating on Whitney with me," replied Clark. 

"Seriously?" 

"Seriously." 

Lex's soft laugh vibrated across the wire. "Oh, that's good. Thanks, I needed a good laugh. So, she thinks you're a modern day home wrecker, huh?" 

Feeling laughter tugs at the pit of his stomach, Clark tried to maintain a serious voice as he replied to Lex. He started out well enough, but failed halfway through when an embarrassing snort of laughter finally broke through his defenses. "It's not funny, Lex. I mean... I mean my Mother should, < _snort_ > should know me better than that, right?" 

At Clark's snort, Lex broke out laughing. His laughter proved infectious as Clark soon doubled over from the force of his own mirth. Soon, with tears in their eyes and pain in their stomachs, they gasped back the hilarity of the moment. Composing themselves, Lex was the first to let out a loud, high-pitched sigh that only served to start a second string of laughter. 

Finally, once again in control of themselves, Clark inhaled deeply and asked through a few lingering chuckles, "So, how are things in Metropolis? 

Taking a moment to compose himself, Lex replied with a even, clear voice, "Good, all things considers." 

"Considering what things?" asked Clark. 

"Oh the basics - My Father, my explanation for bringing Simon and his boys to Smallville. Stuff like that," replied Lex. 

Lying back on his bed, Clark rested the phone cradle on his chest. "What did you tell your Dad about that?" 

A pause followed the question. Then, Lex whispered in mock seriousness, "Better you not know." 

Rolling his eyes, Clark groaned at his words being thrown back at him. "Pain in my ass." 

"Not yet, but soon," promised Lex. At Clark's surprised gasp, Lex chuckled under his breath, "So, before this phone call descends into the depths of bad porn, what have you been up to? Any problems with the football team?" 

Recovering from Lex's comment, Clark replied, "Are you kidding? They avoid me like the plague. As for me, it's school and chores. Oh, and more school." 

"Lucky bastard," joked Lex as he leaned back in his chair. 

Going along, Clark said, "Excuse me? What could be worse than school and chores?" 

"Politically necessary social functions I'm forced to attend with my Father," answered Lex without missing a beat. 

"Tell me more," Clark said quickly as he pressed his ear against the speaker. 

"I've attended two already. A formal dinner for the Make-A-Wish Foundation and a wine and cheese reception at the Metropolis University School of Law hosted by the Women's Law Caucus. Next week, I get the 'pleasure' of attending the Governor's reelection platform. Yeah, watch the news on Tuesday. You'll probably see me. I'll be the guy bored out of his mind, standing just to the right of the podium," replied Lex. 

"Your Father's been attending these things with you? He must be doing better," asked Clark with genuine curiosity. 

"He can walk with a cane, now. Unfortunately, he refuses to follow his doctor's instructions. They warn him not to walk very much, take it easy, but he doesn't. After an hour of standing at the wine and cheese reception, his back was killing him. He popped a bunch of painkillers, but refused to put down his drink because that would be a sign of weakness. He kept absently sipping at his wine and by the end of the night he could barely see straight," answered Lex, a frown drawing down his features as he remembered that night, his Father's slovenly appearance. 

"I'm sorry to hear that, Lex," stated Clark sincerely. 

Running his hand over his scalp, Lex whispered, "Thanks." 

Suddenly, the door to Lex's office opened. Leaning stiffly on his cane, Lionel Luthor hobbled into the room. Placing one hand over the other on the silver head of his cane, Lionel called out, "Lex, the Board of Directors are not known to wait for late members." 

Turning away from his Father, Lex whispered into the phone, "Clark, I'll have to talk to you later." 

The sadness in Clark's voice rang out of every syllable as he said, "Sure. I understand. It was good talking to you, Lex." 

"Same here," replied Lex as Lionel called out a loud, "Lex." 

Grimacing at his Father's behavior, Lex quickly said, "Gotta go, Clark," before slamming the phone down. 

Standing up, Lex took a moment to button his jacket before following his Father out of the room. In the hallways, they were silent as they strode side-by-side. In the garage, they didn't even look at each other as the chauffeur held the door to the limousine open. Once inside the limo, Lionel pushed a couple buttons on his armrest. Suddenly, a partition rose behind the chauffeur and locks clicked into place ensuring the partition stayed in place. Finally alone, Lionel glanced at his watch as he commented, "So, I guess two o'clock on a Saturday is when all good farm boys are home. How quaint." 

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Lex crossed his arms over his chest. "Dad, we've successfully avoided this topic thus far. Let's try to remain on that course." 

Smugly thrusting out his chin, Lionel said, "Oh, I see. Are you upset that I interrupted you while you were busy laying out your itinerary for the next week. Does he like to keep you on a short leash." 

Unable to keep a slight twitch from showing as he slowly glanced at his Father, Lex spit out, "What are you doing? Bugging my phone?" 

Laughing arrogantly, Lionel assured, "Of course not, I stand outside your office with a glass pressed against the wood of your door." 

Not bothering to look at Lex, Lionel continued, "You should be happy only I heard you. The Board of Directors would love to hear the endearing words you shower on that boy. It would make them feel secure that you'll never be in a position to take over LuthorCorp." 

Sighing, Lex looked away from his Father. "You're starting to sound like a broken record." 

"Perhaps, I am. The Luthor family is extremely powerful, Lex. It is an old, noble family. With wealth secured in addition to title and rank, your forbears found an insidious way to ensure that their traditions would survive through their progeny. LuthorCorp incorporated in 1873 and in over a hundred years not a single heir has found a way around the clause. You should pay heed to that fact," warned Lionel. 

Sitting perfectly still, Lex churned inside. Rage boiled within his chest, burning as it seeped into his bloodstream. Madness called to him, ordering him to put an end to this petty little man beside him. A dull pain ached behind his eyes. Reaching up with his left hand, Lex squeezed the bridge of his nose. Opening his eyes, he lowered his hand. As he did, he glanced at the watch wrapped about his wrist, stared at the Napoleon Franc. As he studied the watch's smooth polished surfaces, Lex could see his Mother's face. He could hear her whispering soothing words in his ear just like she did all those nights he spent in the hospital after the meteor shower. Just like those pain-filled nights of long ago, she acted as a balm to his wounds. In waves, bit by bit, Lex felt his rage ebb away until finally he was no longer entertaining fatal fantasies. 

\--<{()}>\-- 

November 5, 2002 

Mayor Siegel's Campaign Headquarters 

Smallville, Kansas 

"With 47% of the precincts reporting, incumbent candidate Mayor Siegel leads the Mayoral race by nearly two votes to one over his opponent," proclaimed the News Anchor. 

Within the hall, cheers roared. Echoing through the air, the triumphant call of campaign volunteers rang out. Within the din, some danced. Some kissed. Some clung to each other as they rode high on the waves of imminent victory. In the midst of this mass of bodies and cacophony of voices stood Pete Ross and Sam Cole. 

With wide smiles, they held onto one another. Swaying with the crowd, they pressed against one another until nothing but fabric separated them. With joy, they kissed at the last update. With her fingers on his cheeks, Sam stretched out their victory kiss. Smiling against his lips, she giggled as the excitement of the hour moved her. Throwing her hands into the air, Sam jumped around. Twirling about, Sam opened her eyes as she turned away from Pete. 

Suddenly, she went completely still. At the doors, she saw Marcus frowning back at her. Looking out over the sea of people, she saw her Father wading through the pressed bodies. Panicking, Sam turned around and screamed, "Pete, get out of here. Quick." 

Grabbing Sam's hands, Pete asked, "Sam what is it?" 

Terror filling her incredibly wide-open eyes, Sam cried, "My Father." 

Swallowing once, Pete stood a little taller as he puffed out his chest and held up his head. Pulling her hands against his chest, Pete said, "Let me talk to him, Sam. Maybe he'll change his mind." 

Shaking her head wildly, Sam replied, "No! He won't. Please go, Pete. I'll keep an eye out for him." 

Before she could turn around again, Sam felt a solid mass against her back. Without looking over her shoulder, Sam knew who it had to be. Her shoulders filled with tension, flexing up to her ears as she dared to peek at the angry man standing behind her. 

Finally pushing away, Sam turned around a little bit a time. The face that greeted her was less than encouraging. Raymond Cole stood rigidly - his jaw set, his eyes centered on Sam's frightened expression. In fact the only thing that moved on Raymond's face was a madly ticking muscle just above his left eye. In a deep baritone, he bellowed, "Samantha, what is the meaning of this?" 

Putting her hands up, Sam answered, "Daddy, I don't know what you mean." 

Leaning over, Raymond clarified, "Let me make myself more clear - what are you doing with this...with this boy?" 

From behind Sam, Pete summoned the courage to clear his throat and lift a hand. "Mr. Cole, my name is Pete Ross. If you would let-" 

Raymond silenced Pete with a withering look and a stern response, "Young man, I do not care who you are. I only care to know what is you think you are doing with my daughter." 

Before Pete could respond, Sam pressed her hands against her Father's chest and begged, "Please, Daddy. I can explain, but not here. Let's go home, Daddy. Please." 

Glancing down at his daughter's agonized face, some of Raymond's rage seeped away. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, Raymond pulled her forward and through the swirling masses of people ignorant to the drama in their midst. As her Father led her away, Sam managed to glance back at Pete twice. Each time, Pete returned her gaze as he followed her departing figure. 

At the door, Pete's eyes fell upon Marcus Cole. Pete expected a smug smile or a condescending glare. Instead, Pete saw sadness and regret. In fact, anger only graced Marcus' features when he realized he was being watched and returned Pete's glare. It was the calmness of the family, the careful control of their actions that made a shiver of caution travel down Pete's spine. It was the sincere concern on Marcus' face as he watched Sam and Raymond pass in front of him that made Pete first fear for Sam's well being as he watched the trio depart. 

\--<{()}>\-- 

Later That Night At The Luthor Penthouse 

Metropolis, Kansas 

"Come on, Dad. Get your feet under yourself. Come on! I'm not carrying you all the way to your bedroom," growled Lex at his Father. Biting his tongue, he managed to close the door to the penthouse without loosing his grip on Lionel's waist. Straining from the effort, he dragged Lionel to the center of the living room. Lionel made no attempt to stand straighter. His head tilted back, Lionel seemed content to stare at the ceiling. 

At last, Lex had enough. 

Dropping his Father's limp body onto the sofa, Lex crossed the room to the bar. After pouring three fingers of scotch, Lex slammed the decanter down, not caring if it shattered. Turning around, Lex stood a few feet from the sofa and looked at the mess - Lionel sprawled over the cushions. Taking a sip of scotch, Lex couldn't banish a stray thought. ' _Oh_ , _how the mighty have fallen_.' 

Something halfway between a grunt and a groan escaped Lionel's throat. Pushing against the sofa cushions, Lionel struggled to sit up. He got no help from Lex and knew he wouldn't. Finally, he had his back against the sofa back. Though still slightly askew, Lionel was at least mostly vertical. Straining to look up at Lex, Lionel sneered, "People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones, Lex." 

In response, Lex chuckled once. Slowly, Lex walked over to a chair opposite Lionel. As he sat down, Lex retorted, "True, but in all the years I went clubbing, you never had to drag my ass in here." 

Laughing weakly, Lionel watched Lex play with his drink. He centered in on how Lex held the lead crystal tumbler with his thumb and middle finger while running his index finger over the edge of the glass. Shifting his seat, he sighed, "Genetics is a funny thing." 

Stilling all movement, Lex looked back at his Father. "I'm sure." 

Shaking his head, Lionel pointed feebly at Lex's glass. "Your absent minded fidgeting. Lillian used to do that, that thing with her finger on the edge of the glass. She could make the glass sing. I'm quite sure you never saw her do it as she never drank in front of you, but here you are doing the exact same thing." 

Looking down at his drink, Lex affectionately rubbed the crystal. Then, without giving himself time to think about it, Lex dipped his index finger in the amber liquid. Running his index finger along the edge, Lex produced a high-pitched tone. 

Nodding, Lionel looked at Lex and said, "Yes, just like that." 

Broken from his reverie, Lex pushed the drink away. Looking back at his Father, Lex sighed, "Time for bed, Dad." 

Lionel seemed startled by the declaration. Looking at his watch, he worked hard to focus on it as he kept bringing his arm closer then swinging it away again. Suddenly, a strong hand was on the swaying arm. Following the manicured hand up to a slender arm, Lionel found himself looking Lex square in the face. Squinting, Lionel commented, "You look like her sometimes." 

Swallowing hard, Lex pulled Lionel to his feet. Drawing Lionel's left arm over his head, Lex gripped Lionel's hand tightly with his own left hand. Balancing Lionel's weight, Lex ran his right arm around Lionel's back, grasping his waist. Taking a deep breath, Lex shifted his Father forward. 

The trip down the hallway was uneventful except that each step proved to be more of a challenge than the last. By the time they reached Lionel's bedroom, Lex was drenched in sweat. As he opened the door, Lex paused to shore up his strength as he dragged his Father the rest of the way. Lex first deposited Lionel in a chair, then turned down the bed. 

A couple minutes of struggle later, Lex lowered his Father down on his queen size mattress. Looking at Lionel's labored breathing; Lex knew he wouldn't be conscious long. Gently, Lex pushed Lionel toward the center of the mattress, but a little life left in Lionel protested, "No, No, Lex. Can't sleep there. That's her side." 

Staring down at the bed, Lex wondered, ' _I hadn_ ' _t heard he had a new girlfriend_.' Choosing not to fight it, Lex left his Father on the left side of the bed and proceeded to pull the covers over him. Finally calm again, Lionel shifted about to get comfortable. Curiosity gnawed at him and Lex knew his Father would probably answer any question right about now. Tucking the blankets in around Lionel's neck, Lex asked, "Whose side of the bed is it, Dad?" 

Mumbling faintly, Lex almost didn't catch Lionel's reply. "Lily's" 

' _Lily_ ,' thought Lex. 

' _That was his pet name for her_ ,' he recalled as he backed out of Lionel's bedroom, softly drawing the door closed behind him. 

\--<{()}>\-- 

November 18, 2002 

Smallville High 

"Hey stranger, where have you been?" asked Chloe as Laura walked into the pressroom. 

Quiet, Laura placed her backpack on one of the tables. Opening the bag, Laura pulled a thin packet out of it. Handing it to Chloe, Laura replied, "That's the article you asked me to write about being new to Smallville." 

Taking the full-sized envelope, Chloe asked again, "This is great, but it was due last Friday. What happened? You've been gone for over a week." 

Quickly, Laura zipped up her bag. Not looking at Chloe, Laura answered, "I'd rather not talk about." 

Unhappy at being so easily cut off, Chloe crossed her arms and said, "Well, I think I deserve an explanation for why this is late, at least." 

Tossing her backpack onto her right shoulder, Laura replied, "Look, I'm not some project. I'm not a story for you to research. I had personal business. It is no business of yours. I wanted to give you the article because I promised you I would. I'm truly sorry I couldn't get it here on time, but I was otherwise occupied." 

Over at the photo library, Justin looked at Laura's demeanor with concern. Walking over to Chloe's side, Justin silenced Chloe's barrage of questions with an arm around the shoulders. Before Laura could leave, he asked, "Are you okay?" 

Stopping in mid-step, Laura looked back at Justin. Confirming his sincerity, the contempt fell from her face. Shaking her head, Laura turned toward him. Bringing her backpack off her shoulder again, Laura glanced behind her back a couple times before reaching into the front packet. She grabbed at something, but before pulling it out, she looked at Justin and asked, "You're one of Pete's friends, right?" 

Shrugging, Justin replied, "Sometimes, though I not sure he knows it." 

Seeing the doubt fill her eyes, Justin cursed himself under his breath. Putting jokes aside, Justin replied, "Yeah, I see him around." 

Nodding, Laura pulled a letter-sized envelope from the pocket. Placing it in Justin's extended hand, she explained, "It's from Sam. Tell Pete. It's from Sam." 

Nodding Justin swore he would. Clutching the letter tightly, he watched her leave. Looking down at the letter, Justin wasn't surprised when he heard Chloe's question, just disappointed. "From Sam, huh? So, what do you think it says?" 

Glancing at Chloe, Justin slipped the letter into his pocket and said, "None of my business what it says." 

Pulling Chloe close, Justin gave her a gentle kiss. Reigning in the emotional turmoil he felt at the moment as she pled with her eyes, Justin began to feel fatigued, but managed to pull away from her. He hated to deny her anything, but, couldn't, wouldn't give in this time. Chloe's startled, slightly hurt eyes fueled his inner chaos. As the smile faded from her face, Justin headed for the door. 

Outside the pressroom, Justin took a moment to compose himself. All around him the forces swirled madly, faster than he could control. As people passed by him, they felt the eerie brushing of fingers down their back. Looking back, they saw only open air and, in the distance, Justin sprinting away. With every footfall, Justin caused locker doors to fly open, sometimes smacking people as they swung about on their hinges. 

Rushing from the hallway, Justin ran outside. Once outside, he kept on running. Past the center of town. Past the track homes on the edge of Main Street. Along Highway 90, Justin rushed ahead like a man possessed. At a lonely field of wheat, he knelt down. Digging his fingers into the flesh of his scalp, Justin felt the intensity of Chloe's disappointment. He recalled the conflict of emotions it aroused - The eternal battle between should have and wanted to. He shuddered from the chain reaction it caused as he tried desperately to hold it all inside. Suddenly, Justin sensed his defeat. Futilely, he struggled on for a second more before being overcome. Finally, throwing back his arms, he screamed. 

Several minutes later, Justin opened his slightly dazed eyes. With a groan, Justin slowly brought his sore arms forward. Running his fingers over his face, Justin felt his labored breathing start to slow down. Moaning from the pain, Justin mused, ' _That_ ' _s the worst one yet_.' 

Looking around, Justin noticed the circular pattern of crushed wheat surrounding him. Scratching his head, he sighed, "Great. Now, I'm making crop circles." 

\-- <{()}>\-- 

November 19, 2002 

Talon Cafe 

Sorrowfully, he drowned his troubles in a double mocha latte. Cradling the mug with both hands, he rested his weight on his elbows as he shifted on his stool. Steam shrouded his face. Inhaling deeply, he let out a heavy sigh every couple of minutes. His shoulders slumped and his posture poor, Pete left no doubt as to how miserable his life must be. 

That was how they found him. Walking into the Talon, Justin and Clark were met at the door by Lana. Glancing back at Pete, Lana whispered to the both of them, "He's been there for hours. That's his third cup. He won't talk about it. Not with me, anyway. I thought... I thought maybe it's a guy thing. That's why I called you. Maybe, you can get through to him in a way I couldn't." 

Patting Lana on the arm, Clark assured, "You did the right thing, Lana. We'll take it from here." 

Flashing a brilliant smile, Lana took off. With a deep breath, Justin and Clark headed over to Pete. On opposite sides of Pete, they slapped Pete's back at the same time, causing him to lurch forward, almost spilling his drink. Jerking around, Pete shook his head quickly back and forth from Justin to Clark and back again. When recognition sunk in, Pete relaxed back down on the stool. Resuming his slouch, Pete mumbled, "Hey, guys," as he turned back to his mocha. 

At the same time, Clark and Justin sat down on either side of Pete. Glancing at each other, they debated without words over who would talk first. With a final raised brow and tip of his head, Justin won. Taking a deep breath, Clark rested his elbows on the bar and asked, "Pete, you okay?" 

Shaking his head, Pete took another sip of his drink. 

Glancing at each other again, Clark and Justin debated again. Suddenly, Justin's eyes widened. Patting at his jacket pockets, Justin pulled out the, now crumpled, letter that Laura gave to him. With his left flank pressed against the bar, Justin slid the front of the envelope directly into Pete's line of sight. 

It took a moment for Pete to recognize the handwriting. When he finally did, Pete could only stare at the jagged, slanted script belonging to Sam Cole. Reaching out with trembling fingers, Pete took the letter from Justin. His mouth hanging open in awe, Pete barely managed to whisper, "Where did you get this?" 

Smirking, Justin replied, "Laura gave it me, yesterday. I would've given it to you earlier, but you're a hard man to find lately." 

Frowning, Pete nodded. Glancing at first Justin, then Clark, Pete said, "Yeah, about that, guys..." 

Patting Pete's back, Clark rushed to say, "Don't worry about it. I've been known to disappear from time to time, myself." 

Laughing softly, Pete punched Clark's arm once before tearing into Sam's letter. Pulling the ordinary lined paper from the plain envelope, Pete read the letter cautiously. About halfway down the page, his frown turned upside down. At the end of the page, he became cautious once again. Folding the paper up slowly, he gently tucked it back in its envelope. Sliding the envelope into the inner pocket of his lettermen jacket, he looked back and forth from Justin to Clark. Sliding from the stool, Pete stood up and said, "You guys want to go play some hoops or what?" 

Nodding, Clark and Justin agreed. With Pete they turned toward the Talon's front doors. After they took a few steps forward, Clark and Pete stopped when Justin asked, "Dude, you gonna finish your drink or what?" 

Pete stared at the Mocha for a moment before turning away. With a wave of his hand, Pete stated, "Leave it. I don't need it anymore." 

\--<{()}>\-- 

November 24, 2002 

Fordman Residence 

"Goodnight, honey," said Mrs. Fordman as she placed a kiss on Whitney's cheek. Glancing past Whitney's shoulder, she continued coolly, "Don't stay up too late." 

Hugging his Mother, Whitney whispered, "Goodnight, Mom. I'll see you in the morning." 

Taking a moment to flash a warning at Lana, Mrs. Fordman left the room. 

"Alone at last," whispered Whitney as he turned around. Advancing slowly, he stalked after Lana as she backed away. Finally, with her back against the sofa table, Lana fell prey to Whitney's onslaught. His hands glided easily, familiarly over her waist. Grabbing onto her hips, Whitney pulled her forward until they fitted snugly against one another. 

Her gasp made him laugh. With one hand at her back, Whitney reached up and turned her chin up until he looked directly into her eyes. He searched her face for a second before leaning down and capturing her lips. Deeply, he kissed her. Soulfully, he held her close. Stealthily, his fingers inched down her back, wasting no time as they slipped under the waistband of her jeans. 

At the touch of his warm fingers on the small of her back, Lana pushed Whitney away. Exhaling loudly, Whitney demanded, "Lana, what is going on?" 

Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, Lana replied, "It's just too soon, Whitney." 

Gripping Lana by the arms, Whitney pulled her forward. Enraged, he looked directly into her fear filled eyes. "Too soon? Lana, we've been together for two years and we've done little more than kiss. What are you waiting for?" 

Struggling against him, Lana thought, ' _Someone else_ ,' but she cried, "Whitney, stop! You're hurting me." 

As if smacked, Whitney stumbled backwards. His hands fell to his sides. Taking in a deep breath, Whitney let it out as he brought his hands up, running his fingers over the inch high stubble on the top of his head. Turning away from Lana, Whitney whispered, "I'm sorry, Lana, but..." 

"But, what?" she asked. 

With his back turned to her, Whitney replied, "I want more, Lana. I mean... I thought we were past this - all your princess games." 

Remembering that insanity laced June night, Lana spoke coolly, "It's never been a game. I'm sorry, Whitney. I'm sorry if I've deceived you. I'm sorry." 

Looking at Whitney's back, Lana reasoned she could tell him now. Thanksgiving was in four days. Plenty of time for her and Nell to make different arrangements. She could tell him now that she wanted to be free. She could tell him that she didn't love him. He'd hurt for a second, but he'd be better off in the long run. Straightening her spine, Lana stood with the strength of her convictions until Whitney turned around. 

The pain in his eyes made her pause. The power of his silence made her still. As if outside her body, she watched as he reached out and cupped her cheeks, stepping closer as he did so. Rubbing his thumbs over the dark circles under her eyes, Whitney sighed, "No, I'm sorry, Lana. It's just I'm scared. There's been a lot of talk lately. Talk of war." 

Pulling her into a firm embrace, he continued, "They say it could come any day. If it does, I could be shipped out at a moment's notice. I'm just anxious. I guess, I'm anxious to tie up all the loose ends before anything bad can happen." 

Against Whitney's shoulder, Lana nodded. Drawing her hands up his back, Lana didn't stop until she clutched at the back of his shoulders. Wide-eyed, Lana trembled and didn't stop even after Whitney started rubbing her back and shushing at her softly. 

\--<{()}>\-- 

November 25, 2002 

Luthor Towers 

Metropolis, Kansas 

Lex began to wonder if staying was really worth it. As the catering staff lowered yet another porcelain plate of artistically presented cuisine on the table before him, Lex choked down a yawn. All around him were the same boring people. Sure the events were different and a new charity fronted this excuse to meet and mingle, but the same high rollers were in attendance. 

' _I don_ ' _t know how much more of this I can take_ ,' mused Lex. 

The night's only saving grace was his Father sat two tables away. Glancing over at his Father, Lex thought back a couple weeks. He remembered how his Father awoke the next morning and went about his normal routine. He had searched his Father's face that morning for some recollection of the previous night and the things said. Lex found nothing in his Father's face but an eagerness to tackle the next political obstacle. 

In the past few weeks, they never spoke of that night. Lionel stopped taking the painkiller and things went back to business as usual. At one point, Lex began to wonder if it was all some dream. Sitting down in his cushioned chair, peeking at his Father, Lex wondered what would happen if he slipped a few pain pills into Lionel's drink, ground them up and cooked them into his food. Could he perhaps recapture that moment again? Could he have one more chance at connecting with his Father? 

\--<{()}>\-- 

November 26, 2002 

Kent Farm 

Smallville, Kansas 

She smiled when she saw him. After all these years, the very sight of him made her heart swell. Standing at the top of the stairs, Martha found Clark staring out his telescope. In his lap laid open the little seen book of star maps she had given him for his birthday. Approaching him, Martha hated the walking on eggshells that surrounded her. Had it so much time passed since the last time they had really talked. Not yelled. Not accused. Just talked. Martha found it hard to remember when last she felt that simple pleasure. 

A couple footsteps apart, Clark looked up from the telescope. Quietly, he looked at her, waiting for her to say something. He hated the distance between them, but couldn't find a way to fix it. At a loss for words, he remained silent, feeling lost as she did the same. Searching her face, he saw love and concern in her eyes and wondered, ' _Would that love and concern still be there if I told her everything_?' 

Wringing her hands, Martha pointed at the star maps and asked, "Find anything interesting?" 

Looking down at star maps, Clark saw the maps depicting the Virgo-Coma galaxy region. His mind traveled back to his birthday and the way he'd shown the pages to Lex. ' _It_ ' _s been over a month since I last saw him_ ,' mused Clark. Sighing loudly, Clark couldn't keep the frown off his face. 

Martha caught on quick. She saw pain and loneliness cross Clark's face. Walking up to him, she wrapped an arm around his shoulders and asked, "Do you want to talk about whatever is on your mind?" 

Shaking his head, Clark stood up. Walking away from Martha, he closed the book loudly, placing it on the coffee table. Running his hand through his hair, Clark replied, "I don't have anything on my mind, Mom. I just need some sleep. Midterms were a killer." 

"You're sure that's all it is?" asked Martha. 

Shrugging, Clark answered, "Yeah. What else could it be?" 

"You looked lonely, just now. Not a response I expect you to have to hard midterms," said Martha. 

Laughing nervously, Clark stated, "I'm not lonely. Really. I'm fine." 

Stepping forward, Martha inquired, "Is it Lana?" 

Clark's mouth dropped open. Shaking his head, he replied, "No. It's not. Haven't we been over this? There is nothing going on between Lana and me. Why don't you believe me?" 

Martha tightly held her own hands as she answered, "Because you look so lonely. You look lovesick and who else could it be?" 

' _The truth isn_ ' _t even a consideration for her. She can't even imagine what's happening to me_.' 

Clark didn't speak as he walked away. He left his Mother alone in the fortress of solitude, her question hanging in the air. 

\-- <{()}>\-- 

November 27, 2002 

Cole Residence 

Raymond Cole sat with controlled care. The outrage that filled his muscular frame threatened to break loose. Staring at Sam, he couldn't believe his ears as she said, "But Daddy, please." 

With his arms crossed, Raymond glanced at his wife. She offered little but a nod of her head, passing the decision onto him. Shaking his head, Raymond stated, "No. Absolutely not." 

"But that's not fair!" cried Sam, her hands rolled up into fists. 

Sitting up in his armchair, Raymond bellowed, "Don't preach to me about fairness. Life is not fair. Life does not care about your plans. It proceeds on path with or without you." 

Meeting her Father's gaze stubbornly, Sam bit her lower lip as her Father continued, "Do you want to know about fairness? Do you want to hear stories of refugees left adrift? Do you want to hear about families torn apart or wiped out all together?" 

Rolling her eyes, Sam waited for her Father to finish before she began to speak. "Yeah, yeah. I've heard all that before. You're so into your traditions, but you don't follow them when it's inconvenient." 

In response, Raymond made a move to stand. Flinching away from her father, Sam continued, "It is said that once the price of punishment is paid, then the guilty should be embraced as if innocent again." 

Stepping forward, Sam sat down on Raymond's lap. Softly, she whispered, "I went with you before the Council, Daddy. I was judged as you watched. I've paid the price already." 

Once again, Raymond looked to Sarah for guidance. This time, she didn't fail him. Nodding, her eyes conveyed her willingness to live up to their traditions. Sighing loudly, Raymond nodded as he said, "Okay you can volunteer with Laura at the soup kitchen, tomorrow." 

Squealing with joy, Sam wrapped her arms around her father's neck and hugged him with all her might. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." 

Laughing, Raymond hugged her back. Jumping up off of her Father, Sam raced over to Sarah and proceeded to hug her as well. Smiling widely, Sarah hugged her little girl. Touching the girl's cheek, Sarah said simply, "Behave." 

Suddenly sober, Sam stood straight up and nodded once at both of her parents. Turning about face like a soldier, Sam marched out of the living room. She kept her back straight as she passed Marcus in the hall. Opening the door to her bedroom, Sam stepped inside and pressed her back to the door as it clicked shut. Reclining against the door, she smirked at Laura in triumph. 

"You should be an actress or a lawyer," remarked Laura, as she sat cross-legged on the edge of her twin bed. 

"I'll give it some thought," replied Sam as she crossed the room to her own twin bed. Pulling the covers back, Sam slipped into bed. Bringing the covers up under her chin, Sam winked at Laura as she said with a giggle, "I going to go to sleep. I have a big day ahead of me tomorrow." 

\--<{()}>\-- 

Thanksgiving Day 2002 

Saint Vincent's Church 

Smallville, Kansas 

On the corner of Grant Avenue and Main Street, Sam waited. Standing apart from the line of people waiting to be served, she hoped. In the shadow of Saint Vincent's church, she prayed. 

Her prayers were answered in the form of a royal blue 1964 Ford Falcon convertible. As the car pulled up to the street in front of her, she let out the breath she was holding. Opening the car door, she slid into the seat. She slammed the door shut before reaching over and wrapping her arms around Pete's neck. Enthusiastically, she pulled him into a rushed kiss. Finally pulling away, she ordered, "Floor it!" 

"Never could say no to a lady," replied Pete as he put the car in gear and pulled away from the church. 

Out on Hwy 90, on a secluded bend of road, Pete parked. With the top up, they didn't worry about the cold air just past the windshield. Hidden behind a line of trees, the fog that formed on the glass didn't concern them. In fact, in each other's arms, they didn't agonize about much of anything. 

They reveled in the taste of each other. Kissing frantically, they let their hands roam freely. As he touched her thigh, Sam parted from him long enough to gasp. Looking into Pete's eyes, Sam didn't hold him back as his fingers inched forward. As his fingers hit home, she arched her back. Reaching out, she grabbed the collar of his shirt. 

Pulling Pete closer, she panted wildly. As she fought for control, she pressed her forehead against Pete's. Rocking her head back and forth, Sam moaned so loudly she never heard the passenger side door as it was yanked open. In the instant a shock of frigid air pounded her, a strong hand grabbed her arm, dragging her from the car. 

Jumping from the car, Pete stared wide-eyed at Marcus as he pulled Sam away. Running around the front end of the old Ford, Pete yelled, "Stop!" 

Turning back, Marcus glared at Pete as he wrestled with Sam. Looking directly at Sam, Marcus warned, "Wait until Mom and Dad find out about this." 

Sam went perfectly still. With fear in her eyes, she pleaded, "Please, Marcus. Don't tell them. You know what'll happen." 

Pulling on Sam's arm again, Marcus commented, "Well, you should have thought about that before you and Laura concocted this little scheme. What were you thinking? You know Mom and Dad would never approve." 

From behind his back, Marcus heard, "And what about you? Where do you stand?" 

Still holding onto Sam, Marcus turned around to face Pete. Quickly, Marcus sneered, "I follow my parent's lead." 

Waving his arms about as he approached Marcus, Pete asked, "What is it? A race thing? You can't stand the thought of your baby sister being with a black man?" 

In response, Marcus laughed softly. 

"It has nothing to do with that." Narrowing his eyes, Marcus glanced back and forth from Pete to Sam. Holding Sam behind him, Marcus continued, "You showed honor coming out of your car to protect my sister and I appreciate that so listen, the truth is this: Sam's life. My life. Laura's life. All of our lives were arranged for us a long time ago. As a result, there is simply no room in Sam's life for you." 

As Marcus spoke, Pete held his gaze. Never wavering in his resolve, Once Marcus finished speaking; Pete asked Sam, "What do you want?" 

Before Sam could answer, Marcus warned, "Do you want Mom and Dad to find out?" 

Looking up at Marcus, Sam saw the bargain in his eyes. Closing her eyes, Sam made a decision. Turning to Pete, she swallowed down a lungful of air before she said, "Go home, Pete. Just go home." 

He watched her walk away. All the while, his eyes never left the spot where Marcus painfully held her arm. Finally, once they were gone, Pete got back in his car and drove away. 

Several minutes later, he arrived at the Kent Farm. It was still early morning and he prayed he didn't wake anybody up. Climbing out of the car, Pete chose to investigate the barn first. There, he found Clark sitting alone, staring out into space. 

"Hey man. You mind if I share this sofa with you?" asked Pete. 

Taken by surprise, Clark recovered quickly. "Sure, Pete. Go ahead and sit down." 

Side by side on the sofa, they didn't saw a word. Then Pete opened his mouth and it all came rolling out. He told Clark everything. He reminisced over how he and Sam met and first started going out. He recounted election night and the recent incident on Hwy 90. 

In the end, he made a comment relevant to them both, "I think what I hate the most is that she's just not here. I want her close by me, because that's the only time I feel really alive." 

Looking at Pete, Clark could nothing more than nod his head in agreement. Thinking back, Clark realized the only time he'd felt alive in weeks was during a five-minute phone call from Lex. He hadn't laughed as freely since that phone call and he suspected he wouldn't feel so content again until Lex returned. 

Dragged from his reverie, Clark thought he heard what sounded like somebody crying. Squinting, Clark asked, "Do you hear that?" 

Looking about, Pete asked, "Hear what?" 

Another high-pitched hitch of breath sounded. Jumping up, Clark said, "I heard it again. I think it's coming from downstairs." 

Walking over to the handrail, he looked over the side. Below him, he saw his Mother crying as she clutched the handrail. Rushing down the stairs, Clark yelled, "Mom? What's wrong?" 

As he reached her, Clark pulled Martha into a firm embrace as she continued to cry. Again, he asked, "Mom, what's the matter?" 

She continued to cry long enough for Pete to join them at the foot of the stairs. Picking her head up off Clark's shoulder, Martha announced, "We're at war." 

\--<{()}>\-- 

That Very Moment 

The Fordman Residence 

From across the table, Lana stared at Whitney's hungry eyes. Only she knew he yearned for something other than his Mother's peach cobbler. She let her mind recall the past few days and the bases she'd let Whitney round with a shudder up her spine. ' _What am I doing_?' She thought. ' _This was supposed to end_ , _not go even further_.' 

At the other end of the table, Nell and Mrs. Fordman quietly gossiped. Oblivious to everything but the latest scandal, they never noticed the intense need on Whitney's face. Blushing despite herself, Lana looks away only to hear a giggle escape Whitney. 

Letting her off the hook, Whitney garnered his Mother's attention with a question: "Do you mind if I watch some football?" 

Nodding their approval, Nell and Mrs. Fordman were knee deep in gossip by the time Whitney reached the TV. Switching on the set, Whitney started to search for a game when the words "Special Report" caught his eye. Turning up the volume, he watched as Dan Rather described the devastation that once was San Diego, California. 

As Whitney felt his legs give out from under him, Dan Rather reported, "I repeat, we have been attacked. San Onofre Nuclear Power Plant exploded at 6:23 a.m., Pacific Standard Time. The destruction stretches as far North as the historic Mission of San Juan Capistrano, as far South as La Jolla and as Far East as Temecula. Al Queda has already issued a statement taking credit for the blast, but a full investigation is pending..." 

Whitney didn't hear anything after that. His vision became obscured with an eerie white light. His mind went numb, as did his body. He felt nothing, not even Lana putting her arms around him. 

As his vision returned, so did his hearing. The first thing he heard was President Bush declaring war: "The response to such a cowardly act must be quick. To hesitate is to appear weak..." 

Something clicked in Whitney's head. Standing up, he shrugged off Lana and declared, "I need to use the phone." 

Several minutes later, Whitney reentered the living room. Looking around the room, he saw his Mother and Nell embracing as they stared in horror at the television. Looking at the TV, he saw Lana kneeling on the floor in front of it, staring in a trance at the smoldering ruins of a once powerful military installation. 

"Camp Pendleton Marine Base, lying less than 5 miles to the south of San Onofre, was completely destroyed. Even more devastating than the loss of the historic landmark was the fact that troops were deployed to Camp Pendleton from stations across the United States in preparation for the President's expected assault on Iraq. More than 55,000 troops were stationed at Camp Pendleton awaiting deployment when San Onofre exploded. Foremost in the minds of military leaders at this moment is the loss of equipment, supplies and trained soldiers..." 

Clearing his throat, Whitney revealed, "I just got off the phone with command. They want all Marines to start making their way to the Lejuene Marine Base in North Carolina. Command has scheduled a flight for me and other local area Marines. It's American Airlines flight# 34 leaving from Metropolis International Airport at 11:45 tonight." 

For a minute, no one did anything in response to Whitney's announcement. After a minute, all hell broke loose. Mrs. Fordman started screaming and yelling. "No! You're not going! I won't let you go!" 

She rushed across the room and grabbed onto to Whitney. Flinging her arms around him, she cried, "They can't have you! They can't have my only son! You're all I have left!" 

With tears in his eyes, Whitney struggled with his Mother. Not wanting to hurt her, he allowed her to pummel his chest as he tried to gently push her away. 

In a manner most unlike her, Nell came to the rescue. Grabbing up her jacket, Nell wrapped her arms around Mrs. Fordman from behind. Slowly drawing her away from Whitney, Nell shushed and cooed as she held her. As Mrs. Fordman continued to cry loudly, Nell steered her toward the door. As she opened the door and guided Mrs. Fordman through it, she told Lana, "We'll be back in a few hours. I just need to take her somewhere and calm her down." 

Lana nodded while still in a daze. She stared at the door for what felt like an eternity until Whitney announced. "I need to pack." 

Jerking her head to the left, Lana looked directly at Whitney. "I'll help you." 

Standing at the foot of the stairs, Whitney waited for Lana. Extending his hand as she neared, he wrapped his hand around hers an instant after her fingers tickled his palm. Looking at her, he felt tears flood his eyes again. Offering all the strength she possessed, Lana squeezed Whitney's hand as she held his gaze. Turning, they ascended the stairs together, walking side-by-side. 

Once inside his bedroom, Lana sat on the bed and watched Whitney pull out his duffel bag and start packing. As he rushed back and forth, his movements became short and efficient. As he shoved the shirts in the bag, he used a little more force each time until he was punching the bag, not even bothering to pack it anymore. 

"Does she think this is easy? Does she think I want to go to war?" he asked as he grabbed the duffel bag and hugged it to his chest. 

Still sitting on the bed, Lana replied, "I think she wants what we all want, Whitney. For you to be safe." 

Spinning around, Whitney leaned over Lana and argued, "Didn't you just see the TV, Lana? No one is safe. Not anymore." 

At his words, she felt her throat constrict. Barely able to breathe, Lana struggled until she squeaked in response, "Oh God." 

At the sound of Lana's strangled cry, the madness left Whitney's face. Instantly he crossed the room. Sitting on the bed beside Lana, he wrapped his arms around her trembling body. "There is only one thing that makes me willing to go - You, Lana. I want you to be safe. If something I do makes that possible, then it's all worth it." 

Shaking her head, Lana could only burrow her back into his chest and cling to his arms. Between swallows, she protested, "No! No. Not for me. Don't do this for me." 

Turning Lana around, Whitney whispered, "I love you," just before drawing her into a passionate kiss. 

Pushing against Whitney's chest, Lana managed to free her lips enough to say, "I don't want you to die for me." 

The rest of her words were lost as Whitney kissed her again. Against his lips, Lana cried again and again, "I don't want you to die for me." 

Pulling away, Whitney looked her dead in the eyes as he stated sincerely, "I don't want to die." 

Stunned silent by his words, Lana didn't protest as he pushed her down on the bed. As his heavy body covered her own, Lana wrapped her arms around his back and whispered into his ear, "Stay with me." 

After getting his pants undone, Whitney unbuttoned her blouse and pushed up her skirt. As he lowered himself back on top of her, she spread her legs and chanted, "Don't die. Don't die." 

"Please, don't die." 


End file.
